


The Judgement Chair

by Ematu



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 14:19:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5788513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ematu/pseuds/Ematu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for a mini challenge involving emotions. My emotional prompt "unease". This is a short one, but I was trying to work on showing, not telling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Judgement Chair

It sat alone on the dais at the end of the hall, simple and unadorned. It was made of the same stone as the floors and walls around it, looking as though it were a part of the floor, unmovable and unchanging. Behind it, the walls framed beautiful yellow stained glass windows, adding more gold to any sunlight that streamed through them. They were placed so that the morning light was caught and became a spotlight and highlight for the chair all at the same time. By noon, the light around it was soft and even. In the evening, the last rays of the dying sun would reach toward it from the main entrance, but they could never breach the night shadows that encased the chair. Only the flickering light from the wall torches would light the dais then, making its shadow dance back and forth. When full night had fallen, the chandeliers of candles would shed more light: a warm softer light than the cooler light of day, but still, the chair would be there, alone.

  


She took slow and measured steps, her breathing slow as well, matching the cadence of her feet. All she could see was the chair, but she could feel eyes on her, watching her every movement. Her back stiffened, her shoulders drawing back slightly and her chin pulling up as she closed the distance. Her stomach got a queer feeling in it that intensified the closer she got. Time slowed. The path to the chair seemed to grow longer and shorter at the same time. She could hear the hissing and crackling of the torches. She continued her deliberate pacing until she could go no further. She turned, placed her hands on the armrests and carefully lowered herself into the chair.

  


Her body heat was leached away and the chill of the stone seeped into her muscles and bones. She felt the unyielding back press her spine straight until the back of her head touched it as well. Coolness surrounded her, insulating her from the warmth of the bodies that stood below her.  She could feel her expression chill as the stone’s coldness moved through and around her, as if trying to make her part of the stone itself.  Her stomach roiled, its heat meeting the cold of the stone like a storm.

  


She looked out over the people standing below her. They were still as they had been when she’d walked up to the chair, split into two groups. The carpet that ran from the chair to the entrance seemed to be an invisible barrier that none could cross. She could feel them watching her as she watched them. She forced herself not to fidget, not to shift her weight, not to find a comfortable position. She knew there wouldn’t be one. A movement out of the corner of her eye, but she refused to look. It was Josephine, signaling the guard. Her breath quickened. The guards started forward, a measured cadence the same as her own had been on her way to the chair. Chains clinked and clanked, accenting shuffling steps. Panic rose up, beating back the cold, replacing it temporarily. The guards were visible, the torchlight reflecting off armor that had been carefully polished. The dark head of their prisoner was bowed, his face hidden by the shadows and the unkempt hair that hung down in front of it.

  


Her fingers flexed against the armrest. She fought not to shake her head. She forced herself to remain still, to remain seated. She could feel them watching her, watching him and then her again. Expectant. Waiting. What made her think she had any right to do this? She wanted to run. She wanted to hide, to be anywhere but here. Her breathing was faster. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Slowly. In through the nose, out through the mouth, lips barely parted. No one must see. In slowly. Out slower. She must be calm. In. Out. She must be collected. In. Out. Cold. In. Out. Stone. In. Out. Clank. Chink. In. Out. Chink. Clank. In. Out. Clank. Chink. In. Out. In. Out. Silence. In. Out.

  


Coldness reached out to surround her once more, pulling away the heat of the panic. Except her stomach. It could not let go of the heat and so it continued to clash against the cold. It was time.

  


She opened her eyes. Her head held straight, so her gaze was above their heads and she saw the railing of the balcony and beyond that, the windows that matched the windows behind her. No light came from outside. No gilding of the events happening inside the hall tonight. Her eyes squeezed shut a moment and she opened them again, this time lower and closer. She scanned the faces at the edge of the crowd that had gathered. Gold fire caught her and she stopped, frozen. Warmth radiated from him. From his eyes, so bright and golden. From his hair, burnished in the firelight. From his armor, catching the flames of the torches and throwing it to her. His compassion curled around her. His understanding fortified her. His acceptance settled her stomach. She took one more breath and began.

  



End file.
